


I Want You

by FallLover



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Body Dysphoria, Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, Low Self-Esteem, M/M, Morning After, Personal Assistant Rhys (Borderlands), non-canon, referenced anal sex, sort of negotiation?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 23:06:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18904507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallLover/pseuds/FallLover
Summary: Rhys has body dysphoria. Jack is concerned.





	I Want You

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Never Looked Better](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3953485) by [por_queeee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/por_queeee/pseuds/por_queeee). 



> Inspired by "Never Looked Better". Not meant as a follow-up to that amazing fic (read it, it's amazing) or "Strategic Fit". More of a drabble I might turn into something someday. Non-canon. Assume Rhys never left Helios, Jack never died, Rhys got "promoted", and they ended up dating.
> 
> Also, IRL note: do not force feed people food without their consent. Rhys and Jack are fictional characters who have talked to each other about limits and allergies and tolerances, and have agreed-on ways of spending time together. Do not. Force feed. Other people. Food. Without their consent.

A Rhys who is very self-conscious of his weight without being really self-conscious about it. To himself. He eats junk food with Vaughn and Yvette and then feels bad and eats next to nothing on his own. It’s not so much guilt but thinking of all the times Jack has commented on attractive people or how Rhys isn’t one of those (not in those exact terms but still) and Rhys looking at his stomach - flat but soft - and thinking “I can do better.” Or really, Jack can do better. It’s not so much that Rhys is worried about his spot in Jack’s life. There’s too much between them, Jack was the one who started it all… but there’s always that niggling fear that one day Jack’ll get off whatever he’s snorting that makes him like Rhys and Rhys will be either back where he started or worse off, and not just because of a demotion or getting shoved out an airlock; because Jack won’t care for him anymore. It's a slippery slope of staring at food and thinking how tight your pants waist feels some days and then thinking maybe I'll take the stairs and then remembering why space stations the size of skyscrapers have lifts in the first place.  
  
Rhys skips meals more often than not and derides Jack for doing it while forgetting he’s doing the same for different reasons. Jack can eat whatever the hell he wants because Jack puts in workout hours at odd times and burns energy in tons of ways, including ridiculous gun stunts and threatening corporate execs. Jack forgets to eat because he focuses on work, then binges at random hours of the day, usually snagging Rhys into it to bounce ideas off of him. Rhys sits at a desk. Occasionally picks up trash. He does enough working out to not get bigger. He hopes.  
  
Jack eventually notices that Rhys is self-conscious about it without pointing it out. He frequently tries to sneak food to Rhys without Rhys realizing it. It's easy when Rhys focuses on work with such intensity, or when he and Jack are having heavy conversations about work or theories or what the heck ever and they can spend hours on finger foods without either of them paying much attention. Some nights it's just them on Jack's giant bed surrounded by mini egg rolls and playing stupid games they laugh about all night long.

Jack plans more food dates for fun but also so he can make sure that Rhys is eating something on a semi-regular basis. They always go to fancy places, expensive places that Rhys could never afford before he got promoted, and Jack insists they celebrate, after all, “I’m buying”, and he likes getting Rhys to try new things. Jack isn't impressed by much anymore, besides human stupidity, which is infinite, but seeing Rhys probably orgasm while trying good food is one of the many treats in Jack’s life.

Jack sees the way Rhys sometimes looks at himself in mirrors - gaze focused on his stomach - and recognizes the look from when Jack looks at his scar. There’s a reason Jack covered it up. A lot of reasons, one of which was that he wanted to hide how he got it, another that he couldn’t fix it. Another that he’s embarrassed by it. There’s a reason Rhys is the only person who ever sees it. And there are things about the ways Rhys looks at himself that Jack will never understand, but it makes him ache. Jack distracts Rhys at those times into something else. Pulling him away from the mirror with caresses or a nice long bubble bath or schematics or anything, really.  
  
Rhys sometimes looks too long at ads for weight loss on Helios. They’re infrequent, but they’re there. Next to pictures of supermodels and photoshopped dreams. He never says anything, but his lips press together and his hands stray to his stomach. Then his mood is usually down. He once changed an order from a burger to salad after spotting one. A small salad. Dressing on the side. Jack runs to the bathroom and orders every such ad removed from the station. He orders a giant chocolate sundae for dessert and insists on feeding Rhys part of it. It helps that they basically skipped dinner, so they have room for it. They’re both sort of sick later, but Rhys’ smile when Jack insists his mouth tastes like chocolate and that they should work off the calories with an all-night sexathon is worth it.

Jack stops commenting about how Rhys compares to others he’s dated. He doesn’t say anything overt about it, because well, emotional constipation in that department is part of how he keeps his job, isn’t it? He doesn’t keep pictures of past loves around, at least. He’s not big about being that obvious about his past anyway, but still.

Rhys goes to the gym more often in his spare time. Jack has a personal gym and Rhys is frequently embarrassed to be on the equipment when Jack is there, like Jack might judge him for how pathetic he is.

He'd ask Jack for tips, but even assuming Jack didn't turn the whole conversation lewd - which he typically does - Jack would ask  _why_.

It comes to a head when Jack lightly slaps Rhys awake one morning.

They were in Jack's bed. Rhys technically lived in Jack's apartment at this point. Some of his stuff was still with Vaughn, but a lot of it had been moved to Jack's place.

Rhys groaned and looked up the time. His cybernetics helpfully indicated 9:30 AM on his HUD.

"You with me, cupcake?"

Rhys looked up at Jack, who was nude, and watching him with a mix of concern and annoyance. The mask was off still. Rhys usually asked him to take it off before they were together, and Jack had gotten used to obliging. Jack’s face without the mask was somehow less real, since it was the one Rhys saw far less than the one with the mask on. But it also felt more real, because it was something only Rhys was allowed to see. That Jack didn’t put the mask back on for this conversation speaks volumes.

"Yeah... what's wrong?"

"Well see... I dunno... maybe you fell asleep while we were fucking last night?"

Rhys blinked, then colored. "I... no I didn't."

"Yeah, ya did." Jack raised an eyebrow. "I noticed you weren't as mouthy as usual, and checked on you, realized you'd really stopped moving. Tried to wake you up, didn't work. Thankfully I could tell you were still alive, but jeez... Had to get a medbot in here just to make sure you weren't somehow braindead or something."

Rhys replayed the events of the previous night. He admittedly recalled being a bit drowsy when sucking Jack off, but he was still awake when Jack mounted him later. He remembered looking up at Jack, bouncing on the bed a bit.... then nothing.

Rhys swallowed, embarrassed. "Uh... sorry?"

"I mean on the one hand, I didn't know that was actually possible," Jack said. "Not just cause it was me doing the fucking, but like... I thought you had to knock people out first. Pretty sure we weren't even remotely at the brain fucked out stage yet."

Rhys swallowed again.

"But I mean if you were  _that_ tired, you could have said."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize..."

Jack sighed. "Is it your workload? I didn't notice ops picking up too much recently, but we haven't done a real business management sit-down in a bit..."

"No, no, work is just fine."

Jack surveyed him critically. "You know I want to know if I'm overworking you right? I'm not going to stop fucking you because your document count drops."

"No that's... really, it's fine. I could probably do more, honestly..."

"Then it wouldn't be that stupidly long workout you took yesterday?"

"...What?"

"You've been going hard the whole week."

Rhys swallowed again. His mouth was far too dry.

"I think you should visit one of the docs. Not just a medbot this time."

"I'm not like... injured."

"You're overworking yourself. Even the medbot said so. If your body is knocking you out like that, it's good to make sure there's nothing you haven't fucked up without realizing it. And honestly it took me a minute last night to realize you were really out. Just wanna make sure I didn't fuck you up somehow. Medbot said I didn't, but I wanna be sure."

Rhys blinked and took stock of his physical state. His ass felt a little sore, but no more than usual after a typical night with Jack. "I don't think--"

"You're not a doctor," Jack said.

Rhys looked at the blanket covering his lap.

"Hey," Jack put a finger to Rhys' chin so Rhys would look at him. Jack's expression was tender. "It's not a punishment. I want to make sure you're really okay. And... if you're not gonna ask for help from me, maybe there's a personal trainer you can talk to."

"...What?"

"The fitness shit you're obsessing over. Best talk to a professional, right?"

"...Oh."

Jack sniffed. "You’re so excited. You don't  _have_ to, you know."

"No that... that's a good idea."

"Don't you hate it though?"

"Hate what?"

"Working out so much."

"Well... I mean it is boring, I guess."

Jack grinned. "Yeah that's why I switch it up. But still... why do it so much? Me, I like to be intimidating and beat people to death as needed,” Rhys rolled his eyes. Jack hadn’t done that in months. That Rhys knew of, at least. “But you?"

Rhys turned out of Jack's hold. His hands went to his stomach and then he dropped them. "I just... fitness is good, right?"

"Uh-huh. You can badly lie better than that."

Rhys pinched his lips. Maybe he could blame things on his exhaustion. "Doesn't it bug you that I... that..." His hands went back to his stomach. "I mean I'm no supermodel or bodybuilder like all those other people you dated..."

Jack smiled and pulled Rhys' hands away from his stomach. "For starters, I’m not dating any of them. I’m dating _you._ Plus, I wouldn't fuck you if I didn't find you attractive, abs or no." He leaned in and kissed Rhys' sternum. Rhys yelped and fell backwards on the bed. Then he giggled as Jack placed kisses all over his chest. At the end, Jack lay his head on Rhys' chest while Rhys lightly brushed his fingers through Jack's hair.

"I really don't mind working out with you," Jack said. "But you get extra skittish when I'm there. And I'd prefer it if you at least saved the exertion for us fucking, kay?"

Rhys laughed. "Okay."

"I mean, jeez, I'm older, how are you the one falling asleep mid-fuck?"

Rhys snorted. "You're not  _that_  old. Plus, maybe that's a sign that my stamina needs work."

Jack huffed.

Rhys yawned and put his head back.

"Tired still?" Jack asked.

"Yeah... but I can get up."

"Nope. Few more hours of sleep is in order."

"Jack, we have meetings."

"Then they can be rescheduled." Jack rolled over onto his stomach and lay an arm across Rhys' chest, and pulled Rhys over so Jack could put his nose against Rhys' neck. Rhys giggled at the touch, but leaned into it. "That's the great part of being CEO, right?"

Rhys rubbed his forehead in Jack's hair. "...Yeah."


End file.
